THE EDGE OF THE FEDERATION

EPISODE 2: "THE HOWL OF RAGE"

Written By Alex Matthews

Based on 'Star Trek' 
created by Gene Roddenberry

Star Trek and all related marks, logos and characters are solely owned by CBS Studios Inc. This fan fiction is not endorsed by, sponsored by, nor affiliated with CBS, Paramount Pictures, or any other Star Trek franchise, and is a non-commercial fan-made film intended for recreational use.  No commercial exhibition or distribution is permitted. No alleged independent rights will be asserted against CBS or Paramount Pictures.

Copyright (c) 2019

Produced by Sojournerverse Productions

STARRING

Matt Damon as CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER APRIL
Rose Leslie as COMMANDER MAYA KENT 
Christina Chang as DR. PATRICIA SONG 
Ed Skrein as COMMANDER WARREN MACKENZIE
Gabriel-Kane Day-Lewis as LT. EDWARD HEMMINGWAY 
Jack Hunter as LT. TIMOTHY DI MARCO
Lesley-Ann Brandt as COMMANDER ANNIKA BARD  
Natalie Dormer as LT. COMMANDER SIRANNA 

GUEST STARRING

Gwendoline Christie as LT. FREIDA RASMUSSEN 
Devan Chandler Long as SECURITY CHIEF HANK ANDERSON
Sanaa Latham as DR. OLIVIA KENDRICK
TBA as ASSISTANT DIRECTOR VERAN LERAK
John Hoyt as CADET PHILLIP BOYCE

PART TWO

As he watched Drs. Kendrick and Song check over her, Sarek pushed his growing concern for Siranna down into the place where he let his volatile emotions rage deep inside him. Instead he focused on the somewhat impertinent question that Captain April had asked him.
"What do you mean, she's your sister-in-law, Mr. Sarek?" 
"I believe the answer was self-explanatory, Captain," he replied. He understood the captain would be curious given his revelation of who Siranna was to him. But it was not customary of Vulcans to share details of their private matters. 
Still, Sarek conceeded he had 'opened the door', as it were, to this line of questioning, so he decided that he should cooperate. At least for now.
"Siranna is the sister of the woman I am betrothed to," he explained, "who still resides on Vulcan."
April frowned at him. It was clear the human was doubtful. "And you just happen to be the person sent by the consulate to liaise with our investigation?"
Sarek raised an eyebrow. Did April believe there was some nefarious purpose to Sarek's own presence here? "Of course not, Captain. When your preliminary report to the Governing Board was shared with the consulate, and I discovered Siranna's name in the incident file, I volunteered to be the liaison."
He looked back at Siranna. How still she was disturbed him greatly. "Before that moment, I had no awareness that Siranna was even in the Rigel system," he admitted, "I have not seen or heard from her since she left Vulcan four years ago."
April's hard tone softened, "After the death of her husband."
Sarek nodded curtly. It should be of little surprise to him that April and his people where aware of Siranna's unfortunate past. Still, he found he did not appreciate the idea of her personal life being 'gossip' for these humans. 
That said, Sarek recognized that he was experiencing an emotional reaction to seeing Siranna again after so many years. He allowed himself a moment of indulgence before surpressing it as was required.
Even in her unconscious, unresponsive state, he was happy to see her.

*             *             *

With little else to do, and having taken advantage of the Training Facility's bunkroom for a nap, shower and a clean uniform, Warren Mackenzie had decided to make himself useful by joining Freida Rasmussen in one of the small briefing rooms going over the daily logs and reports of the personnel assigned there.
It was monotonous, to say the least, so Mackenzie was very glad he'd brought fresh coffee with him. But even with the four cups he'd consumed, he still had to break off every now and then just to give his eyes a needed rest. How Freida kept going without stopping, reading entry after entry, stumped him - and annoyed him no end. 
"This feels totally pointless," he finally groused in frustration, disappointed to see he'd already finished his latest cup of coffee. The carafe was just as empty when he went to pour another. 
Frieda remained engrossed in what she was reading. The Danish blonde was one of those annoying people who could remain steadfast in their focus no matter the task, something Mackenzie knew he lacked, unless it was an engineering matter. Those he could get lost in for hours, if not days. "We need a break, Frieda."
"Speak for yourself, Mac," she shot back, allowing a coy smile, but not looking up from the PADD she was currently reading. A large neatly arranged stack of ones she'd finished going over just reinforced to Mac how little he'd managed to get through of his own substantial pile.
Groaning, Mackenzie tossed his just-finished PADD down, and grudgingly picked up the next. Forcing himself to concentrate to avoid missing something crucial due to boredom or inattention, he picked up another and started reading. As he read, he felt a surge of excitement, "Whoa, I might have something."
He tapped at the PADD, connecting it to the wall-mounted screen. It pulled up what he'd just found for Frieda to see as well, "A log recording by the Chief Scientist?"
Mackenzie nodded, "Encoded for later transmission but never sent." He pointed at the time-stamp on the data-file, "Look at the date it was recorded," he added. "Two days before the attack on the outpost."
Frieda frowned, "Hang on a second," She picked up one of her own finished PADDs and scrolled through it, "I have her schedule here. That would have been around the time she was due to spend some time with the Hill People at that encampment."
His curiosity getting the better of him, Mackenzie tapped at the [PLAY] icon, and the video sprung up on the screen. Siranna's face filled the screen, as she spoke into her recording device, [In my brief time at the encampment, the amount of Hill People who have begun to display symptoms has tripled.] 
Mackenzie was surprised by how much emotion he could actually hear in the Vulcan woman's voice. It was subtle, but it was there. She was actually worried, [I have tried to render whatever aid I can, however my medical skills are rudimentary at best, and the Elders of the settlement have refused to allow me to use my equipment.]
Frieda scoffed in derision, "Luddites. She could have helped them!" Mackenzie shushed her as the recording continued, [Due to the agreement we negotiated before I was allowed to observe and interact with these people, I am unable to contact the outpost for any medical--]
[What are you doing?!] A new voice cut Siranna off. She looked away from the video pick-up, at something off-screen. 
[I am making a private recording,] she explained coolly. [This device is one I was allowed to document my time with your--]
[No!] The other voice again, and Mackenzie could hear the heat and vitriol lacing every word it shouted, [This is all your fault! We were fine until you came here!]
The video-image jostled as Siranna stood, [Please, Elder. You are not well. I merely wish to help you.]
[Enough!] The Elder practically screamed that last word, and there was a flash of real panic in Siranna's eyes before the image jostled again, much more violently, before the screen went black. Replaced by [RECORDING ENDED].

*             *             *

It wasn’t often that Patricia Song admitted when she’d made a mistake. 
Today was one of those rare occasions. 
Thanks to advances in modern medicine, they were no longer required to physically cut open the body and remove organs during autopsies. At least not unless it was deemed necessary, which Song had decided it wasn’t. She had watched with growing admiration as Cadet Phillip Boyce conducted each one under her supervision. 
They’d retrieved plenty of tissue samples from the major organs, including the brain, from each of the victims. They’d ruled cause of death for many of the poor outpost staff, as well as the Hill People that they‘d examined. 
But something was still bothering her, and she knew Boyce, not to mention Captain April and Commander Kent, were concerned. What had caused the Hill People, an apparently pacifistic and peaceful people, to go on a mad rampage. Not just against the outpost personnel, but their own kind, as well?
When Boyce had been assigned as her assistant for the autopsies, Song hadn’t been impressed with the idea of having to take a cadet under her wing. This was going to be delicate work, and she didn’t need to be worrying about someone with little to no practical experience making mistakes.
To her surprise, Boyce had taken to the task with not only a level of skill and precision she would not expect from a second-year cadet, but also the greatest care and respect. A lot of med students she’d seen in her career tended to forget that the cadavers they worked on were once living, breathing people. People with hopes, dreams, families, that had been cut short. 
But Boyce, he had acted in a way that showed Song the empathy he clearly had for these poor souls. It had been the last thing she’d expected from him, and made her realize to her chagrin that she’d acted rudely earlier.
That was why she now stood with him and the electron microscope viewing the last batch of samples and tissue specimens. She’d taken to testing him on various aspects of the tests they were running, and so far he’d proven up to the challenge. Their three living patients each occupied a bio-bed in the small infirmary behind them. Siranna’s comatose state was unchanged, and rather worringly, despite her earlier report to April, neither of the two Zami had managed to wake up for more then a few minutes at a time. Their fevers had continued to grow, so she'd finally decided to administer a sedative. 
“The increased white cell count indicates that the Hill People were suffering some kind of infection,” Boyce commented, bringing Song’s attention back to the here and now. She nodded in agreement, as he continued, “But it was in the early stages, whatever it was.”
“I’ve found something similar in the three survivors of the outpost,” she explained, “They were probably exposed during the attack, but I’m not familiar enough with either of their physiologies.” 
Boyce crossed his arms, “We’ve got access to Rigel V’s public works database and I’ve done some reading. Did you know that physiologically, Vulcans and Zami are very similar, more then they are to humans?”
Song understood his point, “Which means that whatever this is, it was able to jump species because of their similarities.” She considered things for a moment, “I already ruled out the virus being contagious, so they must have each been directly exposed.” Given the bite wound to Siranna’s collarbone, and the multitude of lacerations the two Zami had been covered in, it made sense. 
Boyce grimaced, “The broad-spectrum anti-virals we gave them haven’t made much difference either.”
“We probably need something more specific and tailored to this virus,” Song opined, “not to mention someone with more knowledge of the species then we currently have.”
The abrupt chime from the lab’s computer terminal startled both her and Boyce, they’d been so engrossed in their work. Pulling up the latest batch of tests resulted, Song quickly read through them… and felt a shiver of worry trickle down the entire length of her spine.
Boyce stared at her with worry, “Dr. Song, what is it?”
She pointed to the screen, “Look at these readouts, Phillip,” she insisted. The results were for several brain tissue samples from the Hill People at the encampment. 
“These neurotransmitter levels can’t be right,” Boyce frowned, as he read, “I mean, it basically says their brains were flooded with it.”
Song worked the terminal‘s control board, “If those neurotransmitters are linked to anger and rage,” Song maintained, indicating the other set of results she pulled up alongside the first, “that would make sense, since the hypothalamus and amygdala show signs of severe distress.”
“Meaning this might be what drove the Hill People into a rage?” Boyce queried, sounding rather unconvinced to Song’s ears. Not that she blamed him.
“Not just into a rage,” she replied.
“It would have driven them murderously insane.”

*             *             *

Maya Kent listened, trying to wrap her brain around what Song was telling them. She’d called for this briefing only a short time ago to deliver her preliminary findings, and although Kent didn’t understand the medical details, she got the gist. 
“We also found the same kind of indications in the brain tissue of the Hill People bodies found at our outpost,” Song finally finished.
“This is what caused the incident?” Sarek’s voice was even and collected as he posed the question, as Song nodded in reply.
Kendrick sounded shaken as she spoke up, not to mention looking visibly pale, “That neurotransmitter is the Zami equivilant of vasopressin in human brains. High levels like that would push even the most calm and collected individual beyond extreme aggression and paranoia into homicidal mania.”
Kent blinked in surprise. What does a government liaison know about neurotransmitter levels? Kendrick must have seen the outright surprise in their faces, “I was an M.D. for fifteen years before I started working for the Commission.”
“So this was caused by an outside source? Some kind of illness?" April asked, leaning forward in his chair intently as he turned back to Song. Kent kept silent, but watched the other two occupants carefully. Kendrick looked genuinely disturbed, while Sarek maintained the usual Vulcan cool.
Song pursed her lip, “Yes and no."
Kendrick chimed in, "I linked your computer with our government medical database. We were able to identify the virus as being Oleini Fever, but this must be a new strain or mutation because it's never been known to cause these kinds of neurological changes before.”
April nodded in response… and it might have been Kent’s imagination, but she could have sworn she saw Kendrick sit that little straighter from the attention the Hannock captain gave her. 
Not sure how she felt about seeing that, Kent focused on more crucial matters, “Patricia, do we have to worry about this thing spreading?”
Song looked uncertain, a look which didn’t do much for Kent’s concerns, “Honestly, I’m not sure, Commander. We’ll re-test everyone whose been potentially exposed, but I’m more concerned with the three survivors then I am about us.”
“How so?” Sarek inquired. 
“The Hill People are still biologically Zami, no matter their cultural differences,” she pointed out, “so anything that has affected them will affect other Zami.”
Kent realized where she was going, “Like your two patients.”
Song nodded, “Exactly. I checked their neurotransmitter levels, there's been a steady increase. I've upped the level of sedation, just to be safe." She paused in a way that was a little unnerving, "Given the similarity between Vulcan and Zami physiology, I was concerned that Siranna could also be at risk, so I checked her neurotransmitter levels.”
"And?" April asked.
Song's dour face said it all. Kent grimaced, remembering what she'd been told earlier, "From what Frieda and Mac found, she was right at Ground Zero when it all kicked off."
Song nodded in agreement, "That's most likely where she sustained her bite wound, given the degree of bruising and tissue regeneration."
Kent looked to Kendrick, "If you know what the virus is called, do you have a treatment, cure or vaccine?"
She nodded confidently, "I've already contacted the Commission, they're having supplies of it shuttled over within the next few hours."
Song seemed doubtful, "But if this is a new strain, it might make any inoculations useless. We'll need to conduct tests just to be sure." She looked to Kendrick, "Would you mind staying with the patients for a little while? I'm heading out to the settlement again with our science officer. See if we can discover the source of the Fever."
"Of course," Kendrick replied.
"I suggest we all get back to work," April commented, standing as a signal the meeting was concluded, "Keep me updated."
The two doctors nodded, and exited the conference room together. Kent joined April, and they also started to head out only to stop as Sarek called out to them, "Captain, Commander."
They turned as one, as saw Sarek had stood, but not moved. He looked at them stoically, but there was something in the way he held himself that sent warning bells off in Kent's head, "There is something we need to discuss."
Kent felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Sentences like that, they never boded well...

*             *             *

"I believe that this is no random event."
Sarek's blunt statement made April's skin crawl, "What exactly are you saying, Mr. Sarek?"
The Vulcan remained silent, as he considered the two Starfleet officers. April was on the verge of pushing the point when he finally spoke, "For the past several months I have been part of a small group within the consulate investigating possible corruption within the Governing Board extending to the very highest echelons."
April's couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What kind of corruption are we talking about?
"My particular area of focus has been dealing with several high ranking members who seem to be working covertly for less-then-ethical organizations who are interested in exploiting Rigel IV," Sarek explained. "They wish to develop the continent of Hypuria, specifically around the Argus River."
"Where the Hill People are all located," April realized. 
Kent seemed puzzled, "Why would government officials become involved with criminals in order to develop it?"
"What do you know of the Hill People, specifically?" he asked in reply.
The Scottish woman shared a look with April, before shrugging, "Just that they espouse a life without technology, and keep to themselves."
Sarek arched an eyebrow - a gesture April was finding more annoying every time he saw it. "Crude, if accurate," he commented, the barest hint of condescention in his voice before he continued, "The Hill People have foresworn all modern niceties, instead relying on ancient, tried and true methods of living and survival. They live in two large cities, Vanir and Thursvyl, built into the hills that line the Baronal Mountains, adjacent to where the river runs into the Doravyn Ocean, hence their sobriquet."
"What about the settlements?" April asked, growing curious, even if he wasn't sure what this all had to do with government corruption, "What are they all about?"
"Some of the Hill People broke away from living in their cities, feeling that they needed to be closer to the land, so those nomadic encampments are designed to relocate the length of the river when necessary," Sarek continued, "allowing cattle to graze, and for trade to be conducted between the various settlements, as well as with the two cities."
"Wait a second," Kent said softly, "Didn't Frieda say something about how the observation outpost was now acting as a deterrant against exploiting the resources of the area?"
Sarek nodded, "The entire continent is protected by laws enacted centuries ago."
"What kind of resources?" April asked, his lips dry as he began to understand where Sarek was going with this.
"Large veins of of murinite and boridium ore," Sarek answered, "which they use to create much of their tools and folk art."
April whistled. Boridium ore, in minor quantities, was harmless. But enough of it, could be used as a signficant power source. It was one of the first things shared between the United Earth and the Rigel Trade Commission when they opened scientific and diplomatic channels. 
"Are you saying," Kent managed to say after a moment, "that you think someone deliberately introduced a deadly virus into the area to get rid of the Hill People?"
"I merely state that it is a possibility," Sarek verbally parried, "and that your investigation should be aware of all the facts as we at the consulate have them."
April's earlier suspicions about Kendrick came back full force, "Do you know who is involved?" 
Sarek nodded, "We have several names, but we are still gathering concrete evidence of wrong-doing at this time."
"Is..." April found his throat had gone even drier then his lips, "Is Dr. Kendrick involved? Is that why's been sent here? To see if their goals have been achieved?"
It felt like a great relief when Sarek shook his head, "No, I do not believe so. She is dedicated to her world and her people, and has no known criminal ties or links."
Kent's eyes narrowed, "What about her boss, Lerak? I don't trust him."
Sarek simply nodded, "He is one individual we are looking into. However, we have found nothing to link him with criminal activity either."
Aprul thought back to his brief viewscreen meeting with Lerak, and how he'd made both he and Kent feel like taking a long hot shower as soon as they finished talking to him. He had the strongest feeling that if they looked hard enough, they'd find plenty of skeletons in Lerak's closet..

*             *             *

When she joined Starfleet after completing her residency on Alpha Centauri, Patricia Song had been lured by the notion of dealing with new and unknown races, learning about unique physiologies and biochemistries. It had what kept her in space all these years.
Never once had she imagined she would end up performing a necropsy on an alien fish...
But that was what she and Frieda Rasmussen were currently doing in the small research lab back at the Training Facility. 
They'd spent several hours scouring the Hill People settlement with two of the cadets in tow as escort, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It had been most disturbing being at the now-empty settlement, with all the signs of fighting but none of the bodies - like a ghost town or something out of an old 20th century horror film.
But it hadn't been until they explored a section of the Argus River that ran by the settlement that they had found anything. The surface of the water had been littered by dozens of dead fish. Rigellian dagger-fish, according to their scanners. 
"A staple of the Hill People diet," Rasmussen had reeled off, while Song had recruited the cadets to help retrieve several specimens from the water. She's also taken samples of the river water and nearby soil as well, which she was having the computer run some tests on, as she finished her examination of the fish carcass and peeled off her surgical gloves. The fish had all been unscathed. so it hadn't been a predator that killed them. 
"I think I'm going to enjoy my sonic shower later like I never have before," she griped, which prompted an amused smile from the science officer, "I have never been a fan of fish, so this certainly did nothing to change my mind."
"I guess you make do with what you have around you," Rasmussen commented, before turning back to the data terminal screens she was currently collating results on. Her smile abruptly vanished as she read the screen, "You better take a look at this."
Song quickly joined her, tossing her gloves into a biohazard waste container, before looking at the screens. She let out a hiss of air between her teeth - she had pretty much concluded already what the scans confirmed. 
"Definite indications of the Oleini Fever virus present in the water, the soil and the bloodstreams of the dagger-fish we tested so far," she read, taking note of the detailed results of the scans, but not saying it aloud since Rasmussen was reading it as well. "Increased levels of neurotransmitters in their brain tissue as well."
Rasmussen shook her head, "But they didn't kill each other, they just, well... they just died."
"Probably because they were exposed to a more potent form of the virus present in the water," Song reasoned, "so the immediate physical symptoms were more taxing to their physiology."
Rasmussen understood where she was going, "So, if they had lived longer, they would have turned violent?"
Song nodded, although it was just a theory. "Their are certain similarities between fish brains and humanoid brains, but the amount of neurons in humanoid brains vastly outnumber those in fish brains." She grimaced, "Simply put, there's a lot more in our brains that can get screwed up by an infectious agent messing with it."
Rasmussen looked far-away for a moment, deep in thought, before coming back to the conversation, "Didn't you say that one of the affects could be a heightened paranoia?" 
Song nodded, wondering what train of thought Rasmussen was following, as she stood and paced. "The Hill People just want to be left alone, they're not xenophobic, but prefer to limit their dealings with 'outsiders'." She made air quotes with her fingers at that last, "They allowed Siranna to come join them, but they must have had reservations, given their usual reticence."
Song felt very uncomfortable as she understood what the Danish woman was saying, "The overdose of neurotransmitter would have increased that reticence a dozen fold into a full blown 'conspiracy-theory' level of insane paranoia."
Rasmussen nodded, swallowing hard in disgust, "Just as more and more of their people are becoming sick from Oleini Fever."
"Our people did nothing wrong. They were just in the wrong place at a really wrong time."

*             *             *

Even though he had assured Captain April that he would have all the consulate files on their corruption investigation copied to the Training Facility's computer, Sarek instead found himself standing vigil at Siranna's bedside. 
From what he understood of her condition, she had been comatose for the past several days, since the attack on the outpost. He recognized the signs: she was in a healing trance, marshalling her body's depleted resources to focus on the most crucial of repairs. Still, she should have woken from it by now. 
He knew how to assist her if she was able to at least partially awaken from the self-induced hypnotic state, although he believed the humans would not take kindly to what may have to be done. But until that time, any assistance would be fruitless.
Unless he performed a low-level mind-meld.
Although the stigma of melds had long since become a thing of the past, Sarek had grown up in a time of transition, when the melders of Vulcan were only just coming out of the shadows, as the truth behind Surak's teachings was rediscovered. He had been taught much of melding by his parents, but also warned to not actively announce his ability.
Siranna was one of the first he had shared it with. She and her sister, T'Rea, had also shared his curiosity for the rediscovered art, and had practiced many a time with each other, lowering their emotional suppression within themselves to allow their minds to touch. 
It had been a most intimate and private act. One he had promised to share only with T'Rea now they were promised to each other. 
Can I really allow Siranna to remain in such an insensate condition? He was most disappointed in himself that he would even consider allowing that, because of the possible impropriaty of the act. She has seen who I really am. I must do this.
He was alone in the infirmary with Siranna, behind the plastic drape that acted as a partition. He held his fingers over the katra contact points on one side of her face, as he took a breath to collect himself. To prepare for his mind to touch hers once again.
He gently lowered his fingers down, as he mentally recited the mantra. My mind to your mind. Our minds are merging. Our thoughts are one...
--painangerRAGEithurtssomuch!issomeonethereSAREK?HELPME!
Pulling his hand away as if Siranna's skin was hot to the touch, Sarek reeled from the pure unadulerated onslaught of emotions he had felt. Breathing hard, he stumbled back, trying to find that place of calm serenity he maintained at all time, but it now alluded him.
Something... something was very wrong.

PART THREE

As she ran her scanner over the Vulcan's head, Song became more and more bewildered by what Sarek was trying to explain to her, "A 'mind-meld'?"
"That is correct, Dr. Song," he replied coolly, as if the merging of two minds in a telepathic union were as everyday as talking about the weather. "It is not something we discuss with those not born of Vulcan, but I believe that what I felt inside Siranna's mind is important."
Having assured herself that Sarek hadn't sustained any long-lasting neurological trauma from his experience, Song put her scanner aside. Her curiosity got the better of her as she asked, "So you felt what she felt?"
Sarek nodded, a glimmer of distaste washing over him briefly, "Indeed. I have never felt emotion that intense in all my life."
"I though Vulcans didn't have emotions?"
Sarek raised an eyebrow at her before replying, "An erroneous assumption that we have not bothered to correct, Doctor." 
He slid off the bio-bed, adjusting his robes before continuing, "Vulcans feel the same emotions that humans do. More so, even. They are extremely volatile. That was why as a people, we learned to suppress them with meditation and practice, in order to no longer be governed by them. To be slaves to them."
That explains a lot, Song mentally griped. Every Vulcan she'd met always acted so superior, so above it all. They had to, she realized, to stay unaffected by the emotions of those around them. "But you sensed something off about Siranna's emotions?"
"Not simply 'off', Doctor, but gravely wrong," he answered, "Even comatose, a Vulcan would never allow their emotions to overwhelm them to the extent I felt within her mind."
He looked over at the bio-bed Siranna lay on, "I believe she is deliberately keeping herself in this comatose state, in order to avoid becoming a risk to those around her."
A cold chill ran down Song's spin. Dealing with crazed Zami was one thing, but a crazed Vulcan, driven by emotions they normally suppressed? That was just plain terrifying..."I'll increase her sedative dosage as well."
"That would be prudent," Sarek agreed, "I would also suggest the usage of restraints on all three of your patients, in case sedatives are not enough."
Song balked at the idea of strapping her patients down like she was running some kind of insane asylum or sanitarium from the Dark Ages of medicine, but she knew Sarek was just voicing a 'logical' suggestion. 
That didn't mean she had to like it, though...

*             *             *

"What do you mean, it's not a 'priority'?"
As he narrows his eyes at the image of Assistant Director Lerak on the briefing room's wall screen, Chris April mentally counted to ten. Forcing himself to remember Elizabeth Hannah's warnings. 
Apparently, Olivia Kendrick didn't feel the need to restrain her outrage.
"I'm declaring a medical emergency, Assistant Director," she argued back, "You can't just tell me that doesn't mean anything."
[Olivia, my dear,] Lerak replied smoothly, [I feel for you, and your colleagues, and sympathise, but we have agreements and statutes in place that mean we are--]
Kendrick scoffed, interrupting her boss mid-sentence, and April felt nothing but respect and admiration for her, "Don't give me politician-speak, Veran! These people are dying!"
Lerak's expression hardened, dropping the 'charming' pretence, [The Hill People brought this on themselves, Dr. Kendrick.] He shook his head, [We have tried so many times to make them realize the dangers of living the way they do, it is no wonder they have finally succumbed to a virus that every other Rigellian is now immune to.]
April looked to Kendrick with curiosity. "Oleini Fever doesn't exist anymore," she explained impatiently, "aside from viral specimens in select research hospitals."
"So how did it end up in the water of the Argus River?" April queried.
Kendrick shrugged, uncertain, "It could have been latent inside a host, maybe? The River isn't just the main water source, but also used for bathing and washing." 
[Again, another indication that the Hill People's backward thinking is now taking it's toll.] Lerak sounded far too condescending for April's liking.
Kendrick ignored him, shaking her head, "The important thing isn't how it got there, but that it is there and we need to deal with it."
Lerak shook his head, [As I was reminding you, Dr. Kendrick, we are unable to provide any kind of assistance in their territory unless it is specifically requested by the Council of Elders.] He sighed, [All we can do is make sure it doesn't spreading beyond Hypuria.]
April didn't like the thought of that, "Is there risk of it reaching the other continents?"
Kendrick shook her head again, "Even if it did, our water purification systems will eliminate any risk of contamination."
April breathed a sigh of relief at that. Rigel IV didn't have anywhere as big a population compared to the other major inhabited planets of the system, but the number of Zami (and potential infectees) was still significantly high. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about some kind of rage-inducing virus spreading planet-wide." Verbalizing how crazy it sounded did nothing to alleviate how much the idea terrified him. 
[I beg your pardon?] Lerak's brow knitted together in confusion as he spoke, [What do you mean, 'rage-inducing'?]
Kendrick squirmed, shooting April an embarrassed look. Apparently, she hadn't mentioned that particular detail in her reports. "Part of the progressive symptomology of the virus, Assistant Director," she explained delicately, "which will be included in my next report."
[I see.] Lerak finally seemed to be taking this a lot more seriously all of a sudden. About damn time, April thought. [I want that report delivered in person, Doctor. It may give me some leverage to persuade the Governing Board that intervention may be necessary.]
Kendrick nodded, her face lighting up with hope, "Of course, sir."
Getting the feeling Lerak was close to ending the call, April quickly spoke up, "Assistant Director, what it we go get permission from the Council?"
Both Kendrick and Lerak looked at him with surprise, so he continued wth alacrity, "We have no idea how far this virus may have spread. To other nomadic settlements or even to the two cities." He pushed on, "Let me send out my people in shuttles with search and aid teams aboard to reconnoiter. We can contact the Council of Elders in person." 
He could see Lerak wasn't totally convinced, yet, "I'll also arrange Dr. Kendrick's return flight back to Rigel V, and escort her personally. Showing how serious Starfleet is taking this situation may also help persuade the Governing Board."
Lerak remained silent for a long moment, before finally nodding, [Agreed, Captain. You may proceed.] Without another word, he terminated the connection, the screen going back to the previous display of the Facility's current crew roster. 
"Well," Kendrick muttered, "at least he's allowing us to do something." She gifted him another lovely smile of thanks, "I appreciate the help, Captain." She smirked, "The escort, too. Should make the trip back to Rigel V more bearable."
"Glad to be of service," he replied with a coy smile of his own. 
As Kendrick headed out to gather some things she would need for her meeting with Lerak, and he pulled out his communicator to brief Kent and Bard, April found that he was growing more certain in the idea that she was not involved with any of the corruption Sarek had briefed them on. 
He was also certain he was going to enjoy spending more time with her. 

*             *             *

This was most troubling.
As he sat back, mentally reviewing the conversation he'd just had with Kendrick and the Starfleet captain, Veran Lerak knew something was very wrong with the project.
'Rage-inducing'? That was never part of the long-term plan! Still, maybe they can work with it.
He pressed a control on his desk. Tapped in a long series of instructions into the console that rose out of the desk surface. It would open up an untraceable and private comm-line to one of his partners in the project. 
The screen of his computer monitor flickered with static and interference, as part of the protocols it used to keep their line secure. The man on the other end of the channel was clearly surprised to be contacted, [What is it? I thought we agreed to limit contact until--]
"Never mind that," Lerak hissed aggrevatedly, "We have a serious issue."
He quickly and succinctly outlined what he knew, which unfortunately wasn't much. His contact looked stunned as he took it all in, [That-- that shouldn't be happening. Something must have gone wrong!]
"Obviously," Lerak griped, "But this means we're going to have adjust our time-table. I'll handle that, and run interference with the Starfleet crew" He leaned forward, glaring at his contact, "I want you to triple-check every remaining sample, and make doublely sure that this can be in no way traced back to us. Understood?"
With a nervous bleat of reply, the contact cut the transmission. Lerak sat back, letting out an angry breath. The plan had been simple. Almost flawless.
This new development could ruin everything...

*             *             *

"Me, sir?"
Edward Hemmingway's surprise at April's request was clear, and perhaps a little deserved. The Hannock's 24-year-old communications officer was not normally one of the members of the ship's crew that was sent out on landing party assignments. 
Still, he was the only choice for the job April had in mind for him, "You, Lieutenant." He managed to resist the urge to smile at the pride that lit up Hemmingway's eyes at his captain's confidence in him. 
He'd beamed back up to brief the beta-shift watch officer, Lt. Sebastian Tsougarakis, who'd be in nominal command while he and Kent were occupied with their respective missions away from the ship. Once that had been done, the Greek man taking his orders with his usual irreverant aplomb, April had then summoned Kent to explain why he needed him for the landing party to Rigel V. 
"Myself, Lieuteant Rasmussen and Chief Anderson are accompanying Mr. Sarek and Dr. Kendrick back to Rigel V," he explained to the young man, as they sat in his ready room on the Hannock. "Officially, we're providing escort and testimony to the Governing Board about what we've found so far in our investigation on order to assist them in making a final decision about how to proceed."
"Unofficially, I need your technical skills to aid Lt. Rasmussen and Chief Anderson in their efforts to uncover more about this supposed conspiracy that has been brought to our attention," he concluded. "Sarek and his people have done a decent job, but they lack any definitive proof."
Hemmingway nodded slowly, comprehension dawning, "Which is where I come in, with my knack with computers."
"Exactly," he replied, "Sarek's no slouch when it comes to computers, but he's not you, Lieutenant."
It was no secret among the crew that Hemmingway had one of the highest IQs of them all. In his down time, he's written dozens of computer programs with an advanced computer coding of his own creation that put most of the tech-heads at the Starfleet Corps of Engineers to shame. The flip-side was that his social skills had been non-existant, which is why he'd ended up on the Hannock soon after his graduation from the Academy.
But when April had come aboard, he'd recognized the young man's talent, and both he and Kent had done what they could for him to help become more comfortable being around people. In the two years since, Hemmingway had flourished, and April could not have been more proud of him and how he'd grown and matured. 
April handed a PADD to the communications officer, "This is everything Sarek sent us on his investigation, it should give you a jumping-in point to start from."
Hemmingway nodded again, more confident and focused, "I'll find what you need, Captain."
The Hannock's commanding officer had the utmost faith that Hemmingway would do just exactly as he said.

*             *             *

The silence was beginning to get on her nerves. 
Fidgetting a little too much for her liking, Kent tried to busy herself by re-reading the PADD full of information on the Hill People that Dr. Kendrick had provided the landing party. It was somewhat dry, but after finally getting some sack-time, a decent meal and hot shower, it felt nice to be doing something - anything - that didn't involve dead bodies.
It had been quiet inside the Hernandez, one of the two small shuttlepods that the Hannock had embarked, since they'd set out. She's had Timothy Di Marco, the Hannock's senior helmsman and top-rated pilot, bring it down, having decided that if they were going to visit the Council of Elders, it was better to turn up uninvited in a small, less threatening craft, compared to one of the bulkier shuttles from the Training Facility. 
As well as her and Di Marco, her team consisted of Cadet Boyce and Commander Mackenzie. Boyce sat across from her, in the small rear section, checking over his medical kit for the umpteenth time since they'd boarded the small auxiliary craft, while Mac was at the co-pilot station next to Di Marco. Mac occupied himself with a check on the shuttlepod systems, as Di Marco kept their course. 
What was getting to Kent was that Di Marco, usually a bit of a talker, hadn't been filling the silence with his usual inane chatter, like normal. Instead, he focused on his duties with a quiet determination. The Hannock's Scottish X.O. knew - and understood - why he was acting like that, though. It was an open secret that he and Edward Hemmingway had started seeing each other recently, the cocky and handsome pilot having taken a shine to the shy genius pretty much the day Di Marco had joined the ship a year ago. 
Like many of the Hannock crew, the Italian-American had come to the ship with a bit of a spotty record. Nothing too severe that would have gotten him drummed out of the service, but enough that he didn't have a pick of assignments. When the Hannock's previous helmsman had been promoted and transferred to a new assignment, Kent had been more then a little dubious when April had put Di Marcos's name forward and pulled some strings to get him. But in the time he'd come aboard, he'd stepped up and proved himself time and again, even if his quick wit and sharp tongue still got him into the odd spot of trouble now and again. 
April had a thing for redeeming the 'lost causes' that other captains wrote off as not worth the time or investment. He had ever since Kent had known him, back in her early days on the Starship Lexington, long before he'd even been reassigned to the command of the Hannock, really. 
Finally, realizing the futility of what she was doing, especially since she'd already committed most of it to memory, Kent could take no more of the ever-present background hum of the shuttlepod engines and life-support system. She looked askance over at Boyce, who looked back at her after a moment, clueless, as she smirked, "I think you've checked that kit enough times now, Cadet."
He blushed a little, but returned the smirk, "Sorry, Commander. Guess I'm just a little anxious."
She shook her head, "Commander Bard wouldn't have assigned you this task if she didn't believe you were up to it, Mr. Boyce." She meant it, too. She knew Annika Bard rather well, including her knack of throwing her trainees feet first into a new situation, but only when she had complete confidence they'd rise to the challenge. 
Kent understood his nerves, though - this was Boyce's first taste of what landing party duty would be like if he went into starship service. The kinds of situations any member of the service could run into, no matter where they ended up serving, whether it be on a border patrol ship like the Hannock, or a deep-space mission on some of the newer, bigger cruisers and explorers that were coming out of the Starfleet shipyards.
A mission like they were undertaking, not only a possible search and rescue but a diplomatic contact as well, was no cake-walk, but Kent remained firm in her belief in the ability of both herself and her crewmates. 
"Coming up on approach now, Commander," Di Marco called over his shoulder, pulling Kent's attention away from the young cadet. Pushing herself out of her seat and leaning over the shoulders of the two men at the fore of the shuttle, she looked out the front viewport as the city of Vanir began to fill it. She whistled quietly in awe.
It was beautiful, in a classic, rustic style. Built directly into the mountainside, rising up along the surface, with almost every building constructed out of stone. A large stone wall encircled the ground level, with a set of strong-looking wooden gates for egress. They were currently closed, and Kent could also make out what appeared to be a small encampment set up nearby. Very similar in appearance to the one she'd spent too long in recently. 
"Huh..." Something about the way he said that one word made Kent tear her eyes away from the view to look at Mac. He was studying his console with a deepening frown. She knew that look well. It had been one he'd worn a lot during their time at the Academy, when she'd had to help him cram for one final or another over the years. 
He pointed at the sensor display, "I'm reading indications of multiple fires in the city."
"So?" Di Marco looked over, quizzically, "I mean, these guys are low-tech, right? They must use fires to keep the place warm."
Kent squinted, pointing out the viewport, "No, look." Thick clouds of smoke were starting to billow up from the city, and she spotted several small fires buring on the battlements of the city's defensive wall. There were also a lot of people, several dozen at least, scrambling at the wall itself, a frantic edge to their movements.
As they got closer, Kent realized she had made a mistake. That wasn't an encampment outside the city...
It was the remains of a battlesite. 
Bodies littered the ground, and what had appeared to be tents were actually the torn remains of overturned carriages, like the old 'Prarie Schooners' of the Old American West she'd read about in school years ago. The beasts of burden that had once pulled them from place to place lay slaughtered on the ground, which was running thick with their blood. 
"Oh my God," she breathed, feeling an all-too-familiar shiver of horror as she realized what was going on, "We're too late. Those people are infected."
"We have to help them!" Boyce leapt forward to stare out at the carnage for himself, and while Kent sympathized and understood his reasoning, she knew it wasn't that simple.
It was Mac who explained why, "We can't just land in the middle of that, Cadet! They'd be on us in seconds and we'd be no good to anyone."
Kent laid a hand on Boyce's shoulder in what she hoped he realized was a gesture of comfort, "We'll land in the city. We have a job to do, remember?"
Before Boyce had a chance to reply, the Hernandez abruptly rocked to starboard. Hard. Kent found herself flung against the bulkhead as the shuttlepod shuddered, every light inside flickering as power surged through delicate circuitry. One of the auxiliary consoles in the rear exploded in a shower of sparks! "Report!"
"Massive overload in all systems!" Mac answered her as his fingers scrambled across his control board, doing what he could, "Something hit us, but my sensors are dead!"
Di Marco's next words did nothing to curb the swelling panic in Kent's chest, "I've lost all helm control, thrusters are going off-line!"
"We're going down!"

*             *             *

To say it had been a long day was an understatement.
Dr. Kendrick had been as good as her word. Supplies of the drug used for treatment of the Olieni Fever had arrived only hours earlier, while Captain April and his small delegation had headed off to meet with the Govering Board. The first thing Song had done was to begin conducting tests to see if the treatment would be effective in combating this new and never-seen-before strain. 
It was her immense relief that the tests were going well.
From her research, she knew Olieni Fever had 3 known strains, and that generally, they were no more lethal to all the Rigellian species then the influenza viruses that had once run rampant on Earth. Genetically, the virus that had infected the Hill People, and was currently infecting her three patients in the Training Facility infirmary, was virtually identical to the third strain, OF-A3. A few extra chromosonal abnormalities she'd discovered could be why this strain was causing an increase in neurotransmitters, and the resulting 'rage' that followed as victims brains were flooded with them. 
She was no expert in this field, but she knew enough to get by for the time being, and it was a comfort to know she had Kendrick and the medical resources of Rigel V supporting her in this crisis.
But something about the make-up of this particular strain was really starting to bother her. She just wish she could put her finger on what that was. 
She sat back in her chair, pushing away from the microscope she'd had her eyes glued to for the past several hours, venting out loud, as she rubbed the back of her sore neck, "What the hell are you missing, Patricia?"
"I take it things aren't going well?"
The query voiced by Annika Bard caught Song completely by surprise, that the British-Korean woman bit her tongue to resist the urge to curse out loud, instead letting out a startled gasp. She'd been so deep in her work she hadn't her the South African woman walk in. Neither had she noticed the sweet smell of coffee floating from the two steaming mugs the Senior Instructor held in her hands.
"Didn't mean to make you jump," Bard apologized with a smirk, as she handed one of the mugs to Song, "But I thought you might need a pick-me-up by now."
As she took a seat next to her, Song offered a gracious smile, before taking a much-savoured sip of the hot drink, "It's is just what I needed, thank you!" She knew she'd have to cut back down on the caffeine intake soon, but right now, she was appreciative of the jolt it gave her. 
Bard took a gulp of her own drink before continuing, "What's wrong? Is the anti-viral no good?"
Song shook her head, "No, it's not that." She sighed in resignation, "Tests show it will alleviate the symptoms of Olieni Fever while helping the body develop antibodies to deal with virus itself..."
"But..?" Bard persisted, reminding Song that this woman was a skilled interrogater. Besides, Song wasn't sure how to reply. All she had was a hunch, but she wasn't sure of how valid it was. 
She opened her mouth, to attempt to articulate the stream of consciousness that was buzzing around in her brain, but a strangled scream of fury stopped her cold.
Bard was on her feet in an instant, the phase-pistol she wore in a holster already in hand as she raced out of the lab and across the hall into the infirmary, where the scream had come from. Song followed behind her seconds later.
She entered the infirmary, and grimaced at the scene she took in. 
Dr. Laurel Meyer, her number-2 on the Hannock, and Ensign DeSteve, her nurse, both had their hands full trying as hard as they could to keep the wildly thrasing form of Siranna still. 
But it was a loosing battle. The young woman desperately thrashed against the restraints holding her in place. But what really unnerved Song was how Siranna's lips were twisted in a vicious snarl as her breath came in short, sharp pants, her eyes full of unchecked hatred. Directed right at the people in her vicinity.
Meyer turned to her, a look of sheer panic in her blue eyes. No, not panic. She was terrified. "Dr. Song!" the pretty blonde blurted, "She just woke up! The sedatives aren't having any effect!"
"Damn it to Hell!" She rushed over to assist Meyer as she tried to keep the Vulcan woman from injuring herself with her vain struggles, unceremoniously pushing DeSteve out of the way, "DeSteve, I need 50 milligrams of melorazine, now!"
DeSteve, gaped at her in shock, "That's above the maximum recommended dosage, Doctor!"
Song speared him with a hard glare. She didn't need him stating the obvious, not right now. Besides, given how overstressed Siranna's nervous systems were, she doubted it would slow her down that much. If at all. "You heard me, Ensign."
DeSteve swallowed a nervous lump, quickly nodding as he backed off to fulfill his task. 
Her knuckles white from how hard she was having to hold on, Song tried as hard as she could to keep Siranna steady, She and Meyer did what they could but it felt like what she imagined it to be being on a horse that was desperate to throw it's rider, "I need that hypospray, Nurse!"
"Coming, Doctor!" came DeSteve's frantic reply, very nearly fumbling the hypo as he finally slammed the last cartridge into place. Thankfully, Bard stayed back and out the way, although it was clear that she hated being so useless during all that was going on right now. 
That was when the alarms of the other bio-beds began to blare. A brief glance towards the EEG readouts above them told Song that the two Zami were still unconcious, but wouldn't be for much longer. "Oh, bollocks," she breathed. It never rains... "Prepare two more sedatives, Nurse, 30 milligrams this time," she quickly ordered. 
DeSteve head bobbed nervously, as he finally handed her the hypo. But as Song took it, Siranna's wild movements began to abate. In seconds, she was still, and very quietly, she thought she heard the Vulcan utter one word.
"Sarek..."

*             *             *

What woke Maya Kent was the acrid smell of burning electrical circuits.
As consciousness abruptly returned to her, she sat up with a jolt, coughing hard as she breathed in the thick air of smoke that filled the cramped confines of the shuttlepod. With a start, she realized she was laying flat on her back against the shuttlepod's deck, and details came back to her in a sudden flush of memory.
They'd somehow lost control of the Hernandez, and been forced into a crash landing only half a klick or so from the the city of Vanir. The impact of the shuttlepod against the hard terrain had been brutal. Kent remembered that she'd been thrown from her seat before she'd had time to secure her restraints, and blacked out soon after.
She rolled over and pushed herself up, instantly regretting an experimental shake of her head. Aside from the ringing in her ears, she felt like she was in one piece.
"Commander!" She looked up to see Boyce, a trickle of blood coming from a small cut above his left eyebrow, looking at her with relief, "Glad to have you back with us."
That was when Kent noticed that Mac and Di Marco were still strapped into their own chairs. Both men looking out for the count, and Kent felt her breath catch when she saw how Mac's face was awash with blood. Di Marco hadn't faired much better - he looked like he'd suffered severe burns, which she realized was the result of his console exploding in his face. 
"Report, Cadet," she ordered swiftly, pushing aside the wash of emotion that swept over her at the sight of their injuries, "What's our status?"
Boyce's expression became grim, "All power down, and both Mr. Mackenzie and Mr. Di Marco are badly hurt." He checked his scanner before continuing, "Mr. Mackenzie has a broken arm, and a mild concussion, but Mr. Di Marco suffered a severe electrical shock. His heartrate is erratic, I'm worried he could go into ventricular fibrillation."
"We need to get out of here," Kent murmured, more to herself as she tried to focus on dealing with their situation. 
She tried her luck with the shuttlepod hatch, but the panel was dead. Thankfully, these things were built with manual overrides, so with as much effort as she could muster, she cranked at the emergency release lever.
It took a few seconds, but finally, the hatch reluctantly popped open. Just enough to let in some needed air and sunlight from the outside. With a grunt of effort, Kent put her back into it, pushing the hatch open as far as it would go. 
The sweetness of fresh air hit her full in the face, a needed reprieve from the stink of the shuttlepod. But the relief Kent felt at being free from what had essentially become a useless hulk of metal evaporated instantly as she saw what was fast approaching.
Hill People. Very, very angry Hill People.
Dozens of them.
All heading straight for them.
"Commander?" She looked back at Boyce standing in the open hatch way, staring at her in growing worry, "What is it?"
"Break out the phase-pistols, Mr. Boyce," she ordered in a low voice in reply.
"We're about to get a welcoming party."

*             *             *

Gently, with deliberate care, the two medical officers relaxed their grip, finally letting go of their patient. She was calmer now. Taking slow deep breaths. The EEG confirmed she was still awake. 
This time when she spoke, it was a little louder, enough to be more clearly made out, "I am in control. My emotions do not rule my actions." 
She repeated the statement several more times, her voice thick with the effort of trying to speak. After a long moment, she opened her eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of a completely different person. Icy blue orbs looked up at her, the only hint of their previous mania that filled them being the barest tinge of blood-shot green veins.
Even her voice was more in control, "You will not require the sedative, Doctor."
Song felt herself bristle. "I'll be the judge of that, if you don't mind." She took some comfort as Bard, hand still on her phase-pistol, approaching, having her back.
Siranna closed her eyes briefly, a flicker of emotion passing over her face for a moment before nodding curtly. "Of course. I apologize if I caused anyone any harm during my loss of control."
"Does that mean you're in control now?" Bard asked, almost casually, as she dropped back into her interrogation mode.
"For the time being, yes," Siranna replied, "But I can still feel the anger..." There was a hint of distaste in her tone as she uttered that word, "... it is still within me. I feel I cannot keep it abated for long."
She briefly flexed her arms, testing the restraints that held her in place, "These may not be sufficient if I succumb once again. I suggest you apply more."
Song curled her lips, still hating the idea of tying her patients down to their sick-beds, "I think you and your colleagues are more then well-enough secured."
Siranna's gaze hardened in an instant, "My colleagues?"
Song nodded, gesturing in the general direction of the other two occupied beds, "The two technicians we found with you at the--"
Siranna cut her off, "You must not allow them to regain consciousness!" she exclaimed, with more emotion that she'd ever heard from a Vulcan ever use before, "If they do, they will--!"
A bellow of rage that rivalled Siranna's own cry only moments ago took Song so by surprise that this time she let out a startled yelp as she whirled around.
The two Zami had awoken... and they weren't happy.
With an ease she couldn't believe, the male Zami tore free from his restraints, like they were made of tissue paper. He was on the floor seconds later, spittle dripping from his open mouth, as he growled low in his throat. 
The female Zami was free seconds later, with only a tad more effort. They stood together, like pack animals, breathing heavily as they surveyed their target. 
No, not a target, Song realized. 
Their prey.

TO BE CONCLUDED...